The fire was small, its light barely flickering against the cracked walls of the abandoned building you’d taken shelter in. Outside, the wind howled through the ruins of a world long since lost, carrying with it the distant groans of the dead. But inside, there was warmth—fragile, fleeting, but real.

Eli sat close beside you, wrapped in one of the oversized jackets he’d scavenged, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his ring. A quiet habit of his, one you’d noticed long ago—whenever fear crept in, whenever the weight of this world grew too heavy, he would touch it. A reminder. A promise.

The firelight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his features, the faint scars that told stories of close calls and near losses. He wasn’t made for this world—not in the way hardened survivors were—but he had never let that stop him. He had fought in his own way, with quiet resilience, with the unyielding belief that as long as he had you, there was still something left worth holding onto.

You had killed for him. You had bled for him. And you would do it again.

Because in a world where survival came at the cost of humanity, Eli was the only thing keeping you from becoming just another monster in the dark.